


The Pack Gets Fat

by CaptainKate (CrazyTenor42)



Series: My Teen Wolf Weight Gain Fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Derek Hale, Chubby Jackson Whittemore, Chubby Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Chubby Stiles Stilinski, Feeding, Gen, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyTenor42/pseuds/CaptainKate
Summary: A collection of weight gain prompts and short fics with Scott, Jackson, Derek and Stiles. Each tagged separately.





	1. Taste Tester Scott

**Author's Note:**

> A variety of prompts or fics from my tumblr- @sterekchub. Always open for more prompts to fill if you leave it in the comments!
> 
> Chapter 1: Chubby!Scott  
> Chapter 2: Fat!Jackson and chubby!Stiles  
> Chapter 3: chubby!Stiles, chubby!Scott, and Fat!Derek

When Scott was asked to stop by Stiles’ restaurant to taste-test a new menu for a special event he was catering, Scott didn’t hesitate before agreeing. Stiles had taken his catering business and expanded it into a growing empire. As unofficial taste tester, Scott could vouch the food was the best in the region. If his word wasn’t enough, the extra eighty-pounds he had put on since Stiles started his restaurant business spoke volumes. Scott didn’t regret any of it – he would gladly give up his athletic days in favor of Stiles’ hearty portions.

“Fried gourmet cheeses with freshly baked crostino.” Scott caught the look of disappointment on Scott’s face. “Not enough food for you?”

“It looks good, dude, this is just…really small.”

“Most people don’t want to pop a button on their pants, Scotty.”

“That only happened once.”

“And getting stuck in the booth?”

“You wanted me to try the entire dessert menu!”

“But now you’re complaining this isn’t enough food. Greedy, much?”

“It’s your fault.”

“Yep.” Stiles grinned. “Which is why this is just the first appetizer.”

“First?”

“I was asked to serve a sixteen course meal.”

Scott’s stomach was already grumbling at the thought of sixteen courses of Stiles’ mouthwatering food.

“Hope you brought your appetite,” Stiles smirked. “I’ll help you waddle out when you’re finished.”


	2. Jackson's Le Grande Boulangerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a a quick prompt for a “multimillion dollar heir and cook Jackson”

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you working, Jackson.”

Jackson swung his feet off the counter and stood up from the stool he had been sitting on all morning. The bakery did a profitable catering business, but otherwise got very few customers. Which meant all his time was spent on his phone or half-assing his latest college assignment.

He rolled his eyes. “Clause in my inheritance. I have to work here for a year before I can inherit it.”

“What a hardship, heir to a million-dollar bakery chain.”

“Are you going to order something?”

“What would you recommend?”

“I don’t eat any of this.”

Derek smirked. His beta was clearly softer, jeans straining slightly around his rear and the white polo emblazoned with the store logo was starting to look snug around the hints of a forming belly. “If you say so.”

***

“Hey, Derek was right! Jackson got a job.”

Jackson growled. “I’ll poison your food, Stilinski.”

“Nice customer service.” He grinned. “Have any cookies?”

“This is a high-end bakery, not a grocery store.” The advantages to owning – or soon to be owning – a business, was having the final say.  Jackson wanted higher-end desserts. Tiramisu, elegant cheesecakes, macaroons, baklava, eclairs…nothing so common as cupcakes or birthday cakes.

Stiles bought a few eclairs and left. Jackson slid the tray of macaroons out after he had left, selecting half a dozen before sliding back the tray and taking a seat behind the counter. He deserved something for not kicking Stiles out.

***

“I think you’re getting a little soft.” Derek told him, reaching over the counter and poking Jackson in the side. His jeans were clearly too tight, leaving his waist bulging slightly over the waistband. No one else would have looked twice, but on someone as vain about his appearance as Jackson, an extra fifteen pounds on his usual built frame was easily spotted.

“You’re one to talk. You’ve been coming in here once a week for the past month.”

“I’m not the one behind on my training.”

“I’m staying in shape,” Jackson snapped. “Like I would really let myself go.”

Derek glanced at the nearly empty plate of macaroons by the register on his way out.

***

Jackson was irritable. His housekeeper had shrunk most of his pants in the wash and while she promised to go out and buy new ones, Jackson was forced to squeeze into the shrunken ones for work. The waistband kept cutting into him and it had taken him at least ten minutes to struggle into them. Stupid things. He had spent the last few weeks fuming about Derek’s comments. Being the Alpha didn’t give him the authority to be an asshole all the time. Jackson was still working out, a little less than usual with his job here and his classes. There was no way he would let himself go.

Besides. Derek was one to talk. His constant trips into the bakery were clearly adding into the gut he had been growing lately…

***

“Can I get a box of the cream puffs?”

Jackson eyed Stiles’ shirt, which was inches away from covering the bottom of his fleshy belly. “Only a box? I think you’ve been eating more than that.”

“They’re for me and Scott, dick.”

“Heard McCall lost lacrosse team-captain.”

Stiles shrugged. “Too much stress. He didn’t want to deal with all that and classes.”

“Or he’s getting as fat as you.”

“You know, if someone else sold desserts this good, I wouldn’t have to put up with this.” Stiles complained.

“There is something called self-control.” Jackson worked around pastries all the time; you didn’t see him getting soft.

***

“That isn’t enough.”

Jackson was sitting behind the counter, an empty plate of tiramisu sitting on his lap, licking a fork clean. From the way he was sitting, it almost looked like he was getting closer to a double-chin.  At the very least, his jawline had considerable softened.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are supposed to be my second in command. I would have thought a big guy like you could eat more.”

“I eat plenty.”

“Not enough. You haven’t been training, Jackson. You need to be bigger than this. Scott could take you.”

Jackson glared at him. “Not a chance.”

“You want to be the stronger one, you better prove it.”

Derek walked out of the store, looking back only to see Jackson pull another tiramisu out of the case.

***

“You are really taking the ‘Never trust a skinny chef’ to heart.“

"I’m not the cook.”

“You still sell food. Same thing.”

“What are you, on the freshman 50 now?”

“Freshman forty-five.”

Jackson handed him his ever-increasing order of sweets, belly resting on the counter as he leaned over. “Can’t believe you’ve let yourself go this much.”

Stiles winked at him. “Gotta get to an even fifty. Besides, at least thirty is your cooking.”

“I don’t cook!” Jackson shouted after him. He was the soon to be owner, as if he was going to cook for himself.

He took a bite out of an éclair, moaning slightly.

The people he paid did a good enough job.

***

Jackson was reluctantly sweeping the front of the store when Derek walked in. Jackson was amazed at how much bigger the Alpha was. Derek’s muscular arms covered with a layer of fat, his shirt stretched tightly over his softened pecs and then clinging desperately to his mound of a belly, hardly covering past his belly-button.

“Trying to eat me out of business?”

“I think you’re going a good job of that without me.”

“Right. Even though I’m half your size.”

“Come on, Jackson. Everyone knows how fat you’ve been getting.”

Jackson snorted. “So I put on maybe ten pounds. That’s hardly fat.”

Derek pushed him against the counter, his swollen belly pressing against Jackson’s smaller one.

“You’re right. It’s not still not good enough for a beta in my pack.”

***

Monday was not a good day. Jackson had been settling down with his lunch- braised lamb shanks with a hearty portion of parmesan risotto from the best bistro in town. Jackson was the only customer they would deliver to, partially because he paid well over the cost of the meal for delivery, and he was becoming an almost daily customer. He may enjoy the more-than-occasional dessert but he certainly wasn’t going to eat only that all day.

Jackson had to force himself to finish eating. He would admit he might have overdone it that morning with desserts, because he was very near to being full before he even started having lunch. Halfway through his meal he was definitely overfull, his stomach swollen and resting heavily in his lap. Still, he kept eating. His werewolf healing would kick in eventually and he refused to waste food or, worse, be forced to microwave it later.

He swallowed the last forkful, then stifled a burp and tried to find a more comfortable position to sit in. The button on his pants, his _new_ pants which he had ordered only a month ago, let go with a soft _ping _and went rattling across the floor.

Which was, of course, when Derek came in.

”What happened to self control?” He jumped behind the counter and took a handful of Jackson’s stomach, jiggling it. “I never imagined you’d get this fat.”

Jackson slapped Derek’s hand away. “Me? Look at you!”

“Is that your logic? You can keep denying how fat you are as long as I’m bigger?”

“Shut up. I’m the skinny one.”

Derek grinned and took an entire tray of pastries out of the display.

“You won’t be able to say that for long.”


	3. Fat Frat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt of "Ice Cream and School Events."

Stiles lasted only a few seconds more than Scott before he was reeling back, hose in his hand and ice cream dripping from his lips. He was rather proud of how well he had done.  After all, they were no stranger to gluttony, the freshman twenty sitting around Stiles’ middle was testament to that. He and Scott would had started seeing just how much ice cream they could finish in one sitting to prepare for this challenge months ago. However, it seemed that sitting on his couch, eating cartons of ice cream with a spoon as he binged watched Survivor,  was not sufficient practice. Eating through two gallons of ice cream over the course of a day (which had left him groaning and uncomfortably stuffed all night), was not a good gauge for how much ice cream Stiles could suck down in a matter of minutes.

At least both he and Scott had lasted at least a minute longer than the other pledges, most of who had slinked off after watching Scott and Stiles’ impressive attempts. Though as impressive as it was to Stiles that he had forced down at least a bucket of soft-serve, it still did not meet the requirement of finishing an entire flavor from the machine.

“No way,” he panted. “I don’t think anyone can do this. Have you tried? It’s so cold! There’s so much of it!”

Scott moaned from the spot on the floor he had sunk down to, one hand rubbing his forehead while another rested on his protruding stomach. "I still have a headache. How are you okay right now? You aren’t even a wolf.”

“See? How is anyone supposed to do that?” He pointed an accusing finger at the frat members watching him in amusement. “Wolves have unfair advantages over us humans!”

“You beat him.”

“That’s - urp- true dude,  don’t know how you managed to have more than me.”

“Hey, I have my talents,” Stiles said, thumping his belly, then wincing a bit from the fullness.

“Those are the rules, Stilinski. You want in the frat, you drink it.”

“I still don’t believe this can actually be done.” 

That was only slightly true. If Stiles didn’t see the Derek, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac always eating in the campus cafeteria, he would have sworn the frat members were constantly chugging from the ice cream machines. Since the two years the fraternity had been started, the members all quickly passed 200 pounds and Derek could easily be nearing 300. Clearly, they were all accustomed to eating in excess even to the point there werewolf metabolisms couldn’t keep up. Still, as he could attest to, eating a lot of food constantly wasn’t the same as trying to chug down the frozen amalgamate of heavy cream and sugar.

“It’s not even full,” Erica told him scornfully. “It only gets refilled Friday and it’s been hot out. The machine is probably not even half full.”

“Really? Because no one has managed to finish it yet. Do you check how much is in there? Because then the last person to go would get an advantage and if you really want Greenburg in this frat I don’t know if - ”

“ - if you can still talk this much, you could have eaten more.”

Stiles tried to keep his voice steady, but knew his heart had started pounding as soon as Derek spoke. Derek Hale, with his stupidly beautiful face and grumpy demeanor, was the only reason Stiles had insisted he and Scott endure the hazing. Really, up until his ice cream headache and churning stomach, the plan of “seduce Derek Hale” had gone quite well. It had at least given him an opportunity to talk with Derek outside their weekly political science class debates.

“Ask Scott, I can always keep talking. I think I did pretty damn well.”

“You did. But you could have done better.”

“What are you, ice cream Yoda? That’s stuff is cold and comes out fast, dude. It’s not like eating it with a spoon.”

“I am aware.” Derek took a few steps forward, belly nearly pressing up against Stiles. “We’ve all done it.”

“Have you? I know you must like to eat,  but - ” he poked Derek’s stomach. His shirt was just barely covering the bottom of his belly and Stiles finger sank a few inches into the blubber.  “I think it would be too much even for you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Derek took the hose hanging from the machine. “If I can’t, you can join. And - ”

“I’m honored to be a member,” Stiles grinned.

“ - and if I can, you train with me until you can finish it.”

Stiles answered without a pause. One on one ice cream sessions with Derek Hale or joining his fraternity? Really, it was win-win.  “Deal.”

*****

Less than a minute into Derek’s ice cream challenge, Stiles knew he was in trouble. Not only was he never likely to be spending the next few semesters gulping down ice cream, but he was also in a room filled with wolves who could undoubtedly tell how warm and flushed he was feeling.

Derek was leaning back slightly, taking long gulps of ice cream, his eyes smug and locked on Stiles. Every now and again he would pause for a few seconds, belch, take a breath, and then continue. It was getting harder and harder for Stiles to keep staring back at him, as his eyes kept wandering downward. Derek’s belly was slowly swelling out as he drank, shirt rising to reveal the bottom few inches of his belly.

After nearly five minutes, Derek’s pauses started to get longer. He placed on hand on the side of his gut, feeling it expand beneath his palm, rubbing it profusely.

“Full already, Big Guy?”

“You aren’t winning - urp- that easily, Stiles.”

“Looks like I am. You look pretty stuffed, might as well save yourself the stomachache and let me join now.”

“Not a chance.”  Stiles watched as Derek reached for his waistband, struggling to undo the button of his jeans under the waist of his  “Just had to-urp-make room.”

Another minute passed. The red light on the machine started blinking, indicating it was almost out. Which was a good thing, because Derek looked absolutely filled to capacity. He had ice cream dripping down his neck and chest but seemed not to notice. His shirt had finally given up trying to stretch over his expanding stomach and rolled completely up to rest under his rounded chest. Stiles could only imagine how stretched and sore his belly was, sure that if he poked it now, it would feel hard and taught even under the layer of fat.

“Der, it’s okay. You don’t have to finish it. I won’t hold you to having me in the frat if I haven’t earned it.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t expect you to do this-urp-if I can’t,” he groaned. He took a few more long swallows and the machine finally sputtered and ice cream stopped flowing down the hose.

Derek swayed slightly and lumbered over to a nearby chair, falling ungracefully into it with a moan. He leaned back, eyes closed, and and legs were spread out so his gut could rest in his lap, covering a fair portion of it. Stiles pulled up a chair and sat in front of him, realizing for the first time he must have been paying far too much attention to Derek, because he had not notice everyone else had left.

“I take it back. It is possible.”

“Told you.”

Stiles leaned closer to Derek and placed his hands lightly on his gut, fingers splayed out. Derek opened his eyes and looked at him.

“You aren’t going to want to walk back to the dorms like this, Der. Let me help.”

Derek nodded and closed his eyes again, burping and groaning as Stiles started rubbing and massaging the expanse of his ice cream filled belly. Derek looked like a lazy, sated predator, and Stiles was dying to know how it would feel to have Derek press him up against a wall, to feel all that weight pushing against him.

It was almost an hour later that Derek finally felt a little less stuffed enough to get to his feet.

“Thank you.”

“You might have to repay the favor if you’re going to train me to eat all that,” Stiles smiled.

“Deal.”

They headed out of the cafeteria. Derek was waddling, the weight around his middle throwing off his balance and forcing him to walk as if he was drunk with food.  Stiles slipped an arm around his waist, guiding him across campus.

“You know, my room is closer,” Derek offered, “you could just spend the night with me. If you wanted.”

“Lead the way, Big Guy.”

 


End file.
